


Cliff Fuckin' Lawton

by enjoyurfuckingspaghetti



Category: In the Loop (2009) & The Thick of It, The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Discipline, Hair-pulling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Spanking, Specials 1 & 2: Rise of the Nutters - Spinners and Losers, Swearing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjoyurfuckingspaghetti/pseuds/enjoyurfuckingspaghetti
Summary: The aftermath of Jamie siding with Cliff Lawton.(Contains spanking/belting but it's all consensual and Jamie (the wee brat he is) enjoys it.)
Relationships: Jamie MacDonald/Malcolm Tucker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Cliff Fuckin' Lawton

Usually at 11pm in the MacDonald-Tucker household, there was nobody home, the lights all off, shrouding the rooms in darkness, both the men working hard into the night at Number 10. Tonight, however, Malcolm had decided that they needed to head home a little early. After all, they had a 'little discussion' to have and Jamie already knew exactly how it was going to go. He knew exactly how it was going to do from the second he contacted Cliff Fucking Lawton, the fuckin prick. 

That was how he'd ended up in his current position, bent over Malcolm's knee, backside up in the air, his shirt becoming untucked from his trousers and inching up, revealing his bare back, arms stretched over his head and tie hanging down from his neck, touching the floor. They'd arrived home at 10:15pm, had a verbal discussion which was a lot of yelling on Malc's part and a lot of attempted explanation from Jamie before the head of communications was removing his own blazer and rolling up the sleeves of his fucking white shirt, discarding his tie on the sofa. Jamie had obeyed when he was tugged over and instructed to get over his knee, lowering himself across Malcolm's lap. Taking his punishment like he always did, knowing he deserved it. And more than that, he wanted it. It only took a few seconds of adjustments before a firm, stinging smack landed on his backside, forcing his hips forward into the solid thigh under him, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. And then the second smack landed, harder. 

Then the third, even harder. And so on. And so on. 

Jamie lost his mental count at around twenty, just focusing on trying not to squirm or make any noises, just settling and taking everything he was given. Malcolm's smacks continued for a little while before he firmly guided Jamie back on to his feet, standing him up. 

"Take 'em down," he whispered, brushing a hand over the bulge that had formed in Jamie's trousers, making the younger Scot release a breathless whine. Then, Jamie brought his hands up, unbuckling his belt, pulling it out through the loops and placing it next to Malcolm's tie on the arm of the sofa. His suit trousers were pushed down and lowered himself back over the awaiting lap when he was prompted by a light tap on his thigh. His black boxers hugged his body nicely, uncomfortably tight due to his current situation. 

A warm hand rubbed over his thigh, then up to his ass, squeezing firmly and pushing the man forward, grinding him into the thigh under him, humping forward, desperate for friction. 

"Ey, keep still, ya squirmy cunt," Malcolm scolded playfully, removing his hand, allowing a few moments to linger before he brought it back down with a resounding thud as flesh hit the material of Jamie's last layer of protection. Soon enough, he got back into a rhythm, bringing his hand down steadily and firmly, increasing the force until he deemed the heat coming off the media advisor's backside as satisfactory for this stage. 

The next sound was unmistakable, the slight jangling in the room as Malcolm picked up the belt from the arm of the sofa, folding it in half so the buckle was in his grip, wrapping the leather strap around his hand to shorten it. 

"Cliff fuckin' Lawton, Jamie, eh," he mutters absently, running the worn leather over the back of his thighs, watching the man try not to flinch under the touch. "Cliff," he said, pausing just long enough to smack the belt down against Jamie's thighs, just under his arse, making him grunt and jerk forward, but Malcolm didn't give him anytime to recover. "Fucking," another hit, a little lower than the last one, but overlapping slightly, working his way down his thighs slowly. "Lawton," he finished, giving another smack, making Jamie yelp and lift his hips, wriggling forward before settling again. "Up. Boxers down," he ordered, leaning back but keeping the belt around his hand, watching as Jamie stood lowering his boxers too, revealing how turned on he was. But Malcolm didn't tell him to get back over so he stayed, watching the man carefully as he spread his legs, sliding a hand between them. It was then that Jamie realised that Malc was just as aroused as he was and, God, he couldn't wait to take care of that. Licking his lips, Jamie was fairly sure he drooled at the sight of Malcolm palming himself, infatuated enough that when the older man indicated for him to get back over his knee, he didnt even register it until the man took his wrist and began to guide him back across. 

Once he was down, Malcolm started off with his hand on his bare backside, slow steadying spanks against the bright red skin until Jamie was squirming, humping his leg desperately, rutting against him with every smack, getting closer and closer. He was no longer holding back the sound of his moans, or his yelps or even his whines, instead letting them stream out of him as he was spanked thoroughly. 

The hand stilled, resting on Jamie's backside gently, fingers kneading the stinging skin, making the man give out breathless grunts and high pitched whines, the noises music to Malcolm's ears, feeling Jamie grind himself down against his thigh still, rocking rhythmically. Sliding his other hand up his back, he smoothed his fingers in his hair softly before yanking his head back, making him arch his back. Bringing his mouth close to Jamie's ear, he lowered his voice to a whisper, other hand still groping the warm flesh of his backside. 

"Can ya take eight with the belt? And then yer gonnae come for me, alright?" Malcolm asked, digging his fingernails in lightly, the man attempting to nod with a tight grip in his hair. "Words, Jamie," he prompted, giving another light tug. "Say ya understand and say it right or I'll give ya sixteen with the belt instead." 

"I understand, Malc, I understand," he said, making sure he was loud enough to he heard, hips still lightly rutting. Another smack landed, making him cry out more in surprise than pain, hearing a growl from the man above him.

"I said say it right. You get one more chance, Jamie." 

"I understand, sir," Jamie hissed out through gritted teeth, making sure to spit the word 'sir'. Malcolm accepted it though and simply slapped the belt down once again, this time across his arse, allowing the leather to smack down against the sore skin. This was gonna hurt Jamie tomorrow, oh, yeah, the mouthy little shit. 

"Cliff fuckin' Lawton. And here I was thinkin' ya had standards, finally thinkin' you had grown some fuckin' brains and then you go and associate with Cliff fuckin' Lawton." He kept the belt coming down steadily, the second one coming down after a second of silence between them, giving Jamie time to reflect on what he was saying to him. "Thought you were clever, didn't they teach you anything at that seminary? Huh?" 

Jamie was desperately pushing his hips down, grinding himself harder and harder against Malcolm's thigh, knowing damn well that he was leaving evidence of how much this excited him on Malcolm's suit trousers. 

He managed to hold off until the last smack of the belt landed on his upturned arse before finally allowing himself to come, letting himself completely and utterly go, coming hard against Malcolm's thigh and then slumping, his body going slack, the only movement the rising and falling of his back as he tried to catch his breath. 

The belt was discarded again and Malcolm slumped back himself, allowing his hand to rub over the red skin of his senior press advisor, comforting small circles being rubbed into his skin, which he accepted, a soothing feeling distracting him from the sting. 

"A'right, yer done. Did well, dinnae ya? Did so fuckin' well, Jay," he praised quietly, sliding an arm under him to lift him carefully, helping him over to the sofa, lying him on his front, allowing his head to settle in his lap. "Good fuckin' boy," Malcolm whispered, instead beginning to brush his hand through the man's hair, petting him carefully. "Take some time and we'll get some cream on tha' arse, okay?"


End file.
